


lose it

by lovelilkitty



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Binary Albert DaSilva, albert loves plants bc i said so, the post-breakup fic that no one asked for but that i needed to get out of my system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:29:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelilkitty/pseuds/lovelilkitty
Summary: in which albert misses race, and race misses albert.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	lose it

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off lose it by SWMRS !! it's one of my absolute favorite songs, give it a listen!

Albert’s first mistake was keeping the mixtape Race had made them, long after they had broken up.

Actually, their first mistake was making Race a mixtape, but they had been young and awkward and hopelessly in love, so it couldn’t really be held against them.

They’d started it the first day they had met him; he’d sat next to them in Art and flirted shamelessly, and Albert had blushed, freckled face turning almost as red as their hair, and they’d flirted back, and when they’d gotten home they had started a new mixtape. 

_To the boy who made me smile_.

Albert wonders if Race still has it, if he still takes it out and listens to it sometimes, like Albert does. 

Music was an escape. Now, it was like a long, twisting road that led them back to the past, no matter how far from the path they strayed.

It was hard, when you tied every single one of your favorite songs to someone, when they shared all of your favorite songs. 

Because then, when you fall out of love, you don’t just lose the best person in your life. You lose your music, your escape. 

There is, of course, the silent, nagging thought in the back of Albert’s mind ( _ifyoufelloutoflovewithhimthenwhydoeseverythingmakeyouthinkofhimandwhydoyoustillgetbutterflieswhenyouseehisfaceinoldphotosand-_ ), but they ignore it. They won’t, _can’t_ go there tonight.

Damnit, Race.

They supposed it wasn’t his fault, really. Not his fault that his stupid blonde hair, and his stupid smile, and his _stupid_ downright awesome taste in music wouldn’t get out of Albert’s head. 

Fuck. 

They should call him, really. That would be best. Technically speaking, they had agreed to end things on good terms. 

They hadn’t spoken since they’d made said agreement, but still. In theory, Albert didn’t think that Race _hated_ them.

And yet they couldn’t quite bring themself to do it. Hearing his voice would be too much, too soon (they thought maybe any time would be too soon). 

There was no part of them that couldn’t imagine themself breaking down at the sound of Race’s voice. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad; to just let everything out, and then never talk to him again. It wasn’t like they would be losing anything that they hadn’t already lost.

Past Albert would make a playlist and cry to it, and that would be enough to settle their brain for the night. Well, past Albert would call Race, but neither were options on account of them needing to stop thinking about Race and every single song making them think of Race.

So instead, Albert thought about plants.

When Albert was thirteen, Specs had dragged them to some botanical store. They had wanted succulents, and Romeo had been busy, so the usual trio (before high school, it had just been the three of them) was reduced to a duo.

Albert had expected to be bored; to wait while Specs picked out some tiny plant, and then to go to the coffee shop near their apartment and forget all about it.

Instead, they were enraptured.

There was something about the plants that had immediately captured their attention. They couldn’t quite explain it, the instantly calming effect the plants had had on them. 

They had left the store with two cacti and three succulents, smiling bigger than they had all week. 

In the four years that had passed since then, their plant collection had grown. It was Albert’s pride and joy; not one plant had died under their watch yet, and they liked that, the feeling that they were helping the plants grow, the feeling that they weren’t fucking up.

Race had loved their plants, had thought it was the coolest thing in the world. He could _never_ , he had said admiringly, the first time he’d come over. Every plant he touched died, he had explained quite somberly.

Albert glanced at their shelf, eyes focusing on the cactus Race had bought them. 

They were so _fucked_.

Their fingers were dialing Race’s number before they realized what was happening, 

And then suddenly, he picked up, and Albert’s heart stopped beating for a minute.  
“Al?” He sounded tired (of course he did, it was late, he was probably going to bed, and you interrupted him, and now he’s mad). 

“I’m sorry,” Albert blurted, before they could stop themself. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I left, and I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

It was silent, for a moment, and then, in a small voice, smaller than Albert had ever heard it, Race spoke.

“Why did you?”

Albert swallowed hard. 

“You bought me a plant.”

“I bought you a plant,” Race repeated, and suddenly Albert realized how stupid it sounded, how stupid Race probably thought they were, because Race always knew what to say and Albert never did.

“No, it’s not- Fuck. It’s-” Albert winced, and oh _fuck_ they were crying. “You cared about me. You cared about me enough to buy me a cactus just because I was sad and you knew it would make me smile and no one’s ever done that for me. And I was scared and I didn’t know what to do with it and I knew I would fuck it up so I hurt you before you could hurt me.”

Another pause. 

“Look I know that makes me sound like an asshole, and I know that it’s shitty and there’s no way I can make it not sound shitty because it _is_. And I’m sorry, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry. But I- Fuck Race, I miss you. And I know that sounds dumb and I know that _I_ sound dumb. And I don’t deserve to have you back in my life, not after I ruined what we had, and I know you’ve probably moved on and want nothing to do with me but I just needed you to know.”

“Albert.” Race’s voice was thick, and he was totally crying and _fuck_ , Albert had made him cry, and this had been an absolutely horrible idea.

“I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, I don’t think I’m _capable_ of not loving you. And I know what it’s like to not feel worthy of love, believe me, I do, but you are _so_ worthy. And I don’t- you hurt me, Al. Losing you felt like losing a fucking lung, and maybe it’s reckless to want to jump back into it all again, but I _do_. And I’m scared, I’m fucking terrified. I’ve stared at your contact in my phone every day for the past month and debated calling you and begging you to take me back and every day my resolve gets a little thinner. And this isn’t- this isn’t me forgiving you, or dropping this, because we should talk about it, we _need_ to talk about it, but I miss you too, more than I’ve missed anyone in my entire life. So, maybe, if you’re comfortable, we could try again, take things slow this time?”

“What are you asking?” Albert felt numb, felt like they were floating. There was no way in hell this was real.

“Do you want to get coffee sometime?” Race sounded like he was smiling, and Albert felt like the luckiest person in the entire world.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

They stayed on call for a while after that, not speaking, just listening to each other’s breathing, beginning to drift into the first real sleep either of them had had in ages.

**Author's Note:**

> come chat w me on twitter !! @iivsty


End file.
